


Play the Game

by Lunasong365, PetitPoulpe



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Falling In Love, Friendship, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Pen Pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasong365/pseuds/Lunasong365, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetitPoulpe/pseuds/PetitPoulpe
Summary: It had all started with a random pairing, but when one plays a game with friendship, it can turn into something else.





	1. "You're my best friend"

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Play the Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045073) by [PetitPoulpe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetitPoulpe/pseuds/PetitPoulpe). 



> **Author Note:** When you write in a language other than English, you know you won't be read by many people. But you accept it, and you’re happy with the few that take the time to read your work.
> 
> So, when Luna contacted me to offer to translate this fic, it was the best reward I could imagine. To think that someone would read my work and would want to make it accessible for more people, it was only a dream, until now.
> 
> Thank you Luna for your translation. You did what I couldn't do and I'm so grateful for your work!
> 
> **Translator note:** I loved this fic and I am pleased to present it to an English-reading audience. PP, thanks for trusting me with your baby!

  
Anthony scowled at his blank sheet of paper. He’d been staring at it like an idiot for an hour now, chewing the cap on his pen. Who could have guessed that writing a letter would be so difficult? And why was he being forced to do it? He silently cursed Mrs. Milton. Her and her stupid ideas.

He failed to see the connection between studying _Dracula_ and getting stuck writing a letter. Really! He could still hear her voice in his head.

_"Since the novel is mainly epistolary, I’ve devised an exercise that will help you better understand the dynamics of sending and receiving a letter. Those who’ve only experienced instant messaging on cell phones will learn to appreciate the wonderful anticipation of waiting for correspondence."_

And of course, she’d coerced another teacher to share in this weirdness! As if their students were guinea pigs!

Anthony and his fellow students had to draw names out of a box to determine their partners. His class also had the ‘honor’ of sending the first letter. But what could one write to a complete stranger without coming across as either a psychopath or a moron?

Anthony hadn’t even started yet and he was already tearing out his hair. Fortunately, this part wasn’t being graded. It shouldn’t really be that hard. Mrs. Milton would collect the envelopes to make sure they were mailed, then she’d check with the other teacher to make sure each pairing had followed through, and that would be it. It wasn’t horrible, but Anthony wanted to make sure he didn’t sound stupid.

After reflection, he wrote:

 

> Hello Ezra,  
>  As you can tell by the envelope, my name is Anthony Crowley. I will be your partner for the correspondence workshop for the literature course. I admit that I don’t know what to write to you. This whole thing is pretty dumb, but I guess we don’t have much choice.  
>  I’m 15 years old (like you, I suppose), soon to be 16. I love listening to Queen and I really like James Bond films. Talking about hobbies is a bit lame, but you have to start somewhere. What else would you like to know? And what do you like to do?  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony

 

Frowning, he looked it over. He wasn’t completely satisfied, but it would do the trick. He folded the letter and inserted it in the envelope. He carefully wrote Ezra Fell’s address on the front, then his own on the back. Shrewsbury wasn’t too far from Manchester, so he shouldn’t have to wait long. At any rate, he was in no hurry.

A few days later, Anthony found a letter addressed to him on the living room table. Ezra’s response! He took it to his room. Slicing the envelope with a letter opener, he lay on his bed to read it. His correspondent had a fine, delicate, cursive handwriting, as if he’d spent hours forming each word. Anthony found the difference amusing. His own writing was a bold print. The contents quelled his humor.

 

> Anthony,  
>  Thank you for your letter, although I found its brevity puzzling. I’m sorry you find the workshop boring, but I do hope you’ll be diligent about writing for both our benefits.  
>  You didn’t tell me very much about yourself. If we’re going to be partners, it would be good for me to know more about you. I know we are the same age, but our cinematic and musical tastes are different (for example, I prefer listening to classical music).  
>  What is your family like? Do you have other hobbies? How would you describe yourself in just a few words? This is what I expect to see in your next letter.  
>  With hope that you’ll make an effort,  
>  Ezra

__

Anthony was astonished. He’d been afraid of saying too much in his first letter…and had ended up with a pretentious twerp who thought he could tell him what to do! Well, if he wanted to play that game, he’d found a worthy adversary! Anthony jumped off the bed and sat down at his desk to write. 

 

> Ezra,  
>  For someone who calls me brief, I can’t say that you’re too much more talkative, except to give orders, of course. I find it rather nervy that you’ve told me what I should tell you without saying those things yourself.  
>  My efforts are adequate and I’d expect you to appreciate that, unless perhaps you’re afraid you’ll choke on being polite?  
>  Looking forward to a more pleasant letter to read,  
>  Anthony

 

> Anthony,  
>  I don’t understand why you’re so defensive. You didn’t seem to know how to write a letter, so I offered instructions. I do think I used proper manners, contrary to what you stated, and no, I don’t think your efforts were adequate. Have you forgotten that we’re being graded, and we’re both in the same situation?  
>  Looking forward to a real letter,  
>  Ezra

 

Anthony deviously grinned. He sat down, took out a blank sheet of paper, and grabbed a fat black marker. So, Ezra was looking forward to a ‘real’ letter? Anthony drew a huge capital ‘A’ over the entire page. He wrote in pen just under it: _"Here’s your letter."_

Anthony was well aware it wasn’t the most clever response. He was just trying to annoy his recipient. While writing the address, he realized that result would be guaranteed if he delayed posting the letter for a week, just to make Ezra stew a little. Anthony had to admit – he’d found a way to have fun with the workshop.

Ezra’s answer was rather surprising.

 

> Anthony,  
>  I’m very tempted to respond likewise, but I don’t believe it will get me anywhere. I think it’s better to start again on the right foot. I do apologize for the tone of my previous letters, and I will introduce myself in more detail.  
>  You already know my name, my age, and where I live. Here’s some more about me. I live alone with my father. He is a writer, and from him I get my love for literature. I know I asked you to describe yourself, and therefore, you expect the same of me. Frankly, I think it’s something we should discover little by little.  
>  Sincerely,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. Let me ask you – why do you hate the idea of this workshop so much?

  

Anthony was a bit disappointed. He knew he’d annoyed Ezra, if not made him angry, but he was unable to savor his victory. He shrugged. He could at least console himself with the small triumph of having made Ezra adopt a less condescending manner of speech. Perhaps this exercise could become interesting.

 

> Ezra,  
>  That’s a wise decision, I’m sure we will get along despite our initial differences.  
>  I understand better why you talk (or write) like a book. Tell me, what kind of books do you read?  
>  As for me, I live with my uncle and my two cousins, Hastur and Ligur. They are respectively three and two years older than me. They are related to me through my father, but I prefer to use my mother’s surname (hence the extra name in the address, in case you wondered). So that’s enough about that.  
>  I don’t know what else to write at the moment, so I’ll stop here.  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. As for the workshop, I don’t like to be forced to do things. After all, it’s a lot faster to send an email or text, right?

 

> Anthony,  
>  I don’t think I sound like a book. As for my tastes, they are rather eclectic, although I prefer the classics. For example, I just finished The Picture of Dorian Gray _by Oscar Wilde. Is reading an activity you find interesting? What are your hobbies besides watching movies and listening to music?  
>  In regards to your family, I apologize for having asked the question, but frankly, your situation sounds a bit chaotic. I imagine that since your cousins are older they must help or advise you in some manner, but their names are a bit strange…  
>  Sincerely,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I understand your point of view about the workshop, but I find that writing a letter has a certain charm._

__

> Ezra,  
>  I’ll start off with things that annoy me: I don’t want to talk about my ‘family.’  
>  Otherwise, to answer your questions – yes, I do like to read. I read things that interest me; it can be anything from Shakespeare to Stephen King. Anyway, I said you write like a book because your language usage is a little – stiff. But that must come from your education.  
>  I have another hobby, but before I tell you about it, I want to hear more about you (yes, I’ll keep you in suspense).  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. It doesn’t surprise me that you find writing letters charming. It fully supports the image I currently have of you. But you have to admit this workshop sucks.

 

Anthony read it over and wondered if he might have been a little too curt, but he really didn’t want to be judged on his family life. Unfortunately, Ezra refused to drop the case.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  Once again, I’m sorry to have brought up the subject of your family. Your refusal to talk about them indicates a real problem. Are you sure you don’t want to discuss it?  
>  I’m happy to hear that you enjoy reading, even if you seem to be a more casual reader than I. I admit I’ve never been tempted by contemporary fiction such as King, but I can certainly understand its popularity.  
>  Another hobby, you say? I’m curious!  
>  Before I forget – compared to your writing style, perhaps mine is a bit more formal. Not that I would criticize your writing!  
>  Sincerely,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. What image to you have of me? And I don’t understand what you mean about the workshop.

 

Anthony couldn’t help but laugh as he read the passage about writing. Ezra must have been afraid of hurting his feelings or starting a new fight. He did feel a need to clarify one point.

 

> Ezra,  
>  I guess you think it will help if you offer to listen to my family problems, but you’re not my shrink, or whatever. Let’s stick with the classic answer, “It is what it is,” and we’ll be fine.  
>  As for ‘popular’ authors: that doesn’t surprise me at all. You haven’t yet convinced me to read your kind of books, but maybe I might be able to convince you to read some of mine. If you’re interested – I won’t force you.  
>  As for my other hobby, I told you: You have to tell me more about yourself first.  
>  By the way, relax. It’s okay that we each have our own style of writing. I’m sorry if I sounded like I was putting you down. I have no complaints about your writing.  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. The workshop: There’s just a lot of flaws in the system. We could just send each other empty envelopes because the teachers aren’t checking if we actually write to each other. And what if one of the students in the pairing doesn’t turn in all their envelopes?  
>  Other than that, I feel that you pay attention in class, you’re a straight-A student, your nose is always in a book, and you daydream about talking to your favorite author. So, to enjoy writing fits well with this impression, even if it’s a bit cliché.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  Far be it from me to act like a therapist. We will correspond for several months, and what we say will stay between us, so why not treat me as a confidant? Why not trust me or try to develop some common ground? What do you say  
>  To demonstrate my good faith, I’ll talk about myself first. As I’ve already mentioned, I live alone with my father. I am an only child, and I don’t regularly see the rest of my family. I have no memories of my mother. She left us shortly after my birth. From the little you’ve revealed to me, I realize that despite her absence, I’m lucky. But far be it from me to boast about that. I only want to be open and hope you will feel comfortable doing the same.  
>  Regarding reading – that is a good idea! I can also recommend books to you if you like.  
>  Sincerely,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I think all the notable flaws in the system can be resolved by one fact: Our teachers consider us to be sufficiently responsible. The rubric for the workshop indicates that the goal is not simply to complete the mailings, but to engage in a social experience.  
>  Your description of me is accurate but I fear it’s based on stereotypes.

 

Anthony didn’t know how to react. It was the first time the possibility of a friendly relationship had been offered to him. Was this guy serious? Maybe once he’d revealed everything to him, he’d turn around and stab him in the back. After mulling it over, Anthony decided to take a chance. Just a bit of reciprocation.

 

> Hi Ezra,  
>  Ok, I’m willing to try. I’ll tell you a little bit about my situation.  
>  As soon as I get the chance, I want to leave this house. No, I don’t get along very well with my cousins. Let’s just say we respect each other’s space, until one of us gets on the others’ nerves and it ends with an escalation of revengeful acts. I am currently on guard because of the last incident. Oh, since you asked about their names – I guess my uncle liked to read Lovecraft, you know.  
>  From all this, you might be thinking that our little battles could cause a problem with the workshop (like maybe my cousins might decide to tear up your letters or something), but don’t worry. I’ve got it (somewhat) under control. Our retaliations never interfere with our schoolwork. In fact, my uncle makes it a point of honor that we achieve the goals he sets for us (whether we want to or not). The slightest hint of failure is unacceptable, and he always seems to know who is responsible for what (I think he has a sixth sense for that). In short, he always severely punishes the wrongdoer, so believe me, you don’t want to be seen as the culprit in his eyes. So we have set some limits. To summarize: The workshop is protected by the inviolability of schoolwork.  
>  By now, you must think that my family is crazy (go ahead; I think so myself).  
>  Go on, you can judge me now.  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. You are right about the flaws in the workshop.  
>  Sorry about stereotyping you, but after what I’ve just written, I’m sure I come off as a bad influence.

 

Anthony sighed. Despite their agreement to be friends, the letter was too long and revealed too much. He had to admit that talking about his feelings, even to a stranger, was a bit of a relief, but Ezra would certainly regret his proposal after reading the letter. No matter. They’d complete the minimum necessary for the project requirements and that would be that.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I confess I’m not sure what to think of your last letter. I now understand better why you don’t want to talk about it. Is your uncle really your only legal guardian?  
>  I’m sorry this note is so brief. But discussing hobbies now seems trivial.  
>  Sincerely,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. From your letter, you seem to think that I imagine you as a delinquent bringing on the Apocalypse…

 

Ezra was able to astonish him with just a few lines. He was just a bit too sympathetic and understanding, but he seemed sincere. At least, that’s what Anthony wanted to believe.

 

> Hey Ezra,  
>  Okay, let’s start with the biggest one. Yes, I have to live with my uncle. I’ll try to summarize the big picture – my father ran off when I was little. I don’t remember too much about him, but my mother never really got over it. According to my uncle, my father was known for this – not sticking around. I’m not even sure if he is still alive (nor is anyone else, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here). The problem is that my mother died when I was ten and she had no one lined up to be my guardian. So, I found myself here. Sure, it’s not always easy, but hey, it could be worse. And in two years, I’ll be an adult and I’ll be outta here. So don’t worry about it. I’ve managed so far, and I can hang on a few years more.  
>  So, how about we talk about the things we like to do? I think that would be a good change of subject. Besides, I never answered you about the reading advice, but I think it’s a good idea. If not that, what do you want to talk about besides reading?  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. It’s just that you seem to have such a calm and organized life. It makes me feel like a freak you’re forced to deal with.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I would like to begin this letter by thanking you for your trust in me. You’ve revealed how difficult your life can be, and based on your previous response, this isn’t something you do often. I must admit though, that the casual manner in which you wrote about this is astonishing! I admire your optimism when your family situation is…I apologize, but the only word that comes to mind is ‘disastrous.’ I will respect your wishes and change the subject, but know that I will always listen if you need me.  
>  Other than reading, I really don’t do anything else that is worth mentioning. Of course, I listen to music and watch movies, but everyone does that. I don’t think it’s really notable. However, I am looking forward to the big reveal of your secret hobby.  
>  With affectionate regards,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. Why do you think of yourself like that? I know we are different, but I don’t think of you in that way at all.

 

Anthony shook his head. Of course, he treated things lightly! He wasn’t going to admit how depressing it was to live in a house where happiness had as much life expectancy as a fly trapped in a spider’s web. Only the knowledge that he could leave the day he was old enough kept him going. His indifference was the façade behind which he took refuge so he wouldn’t crack.

Lost in thought, Anthony stared at Ezra’s handwriting as if trying to decipher a cryptic message. Their exchange was taking an unexpected path. Were they really becoming friends? Or was it pity that motivated Ezra? He didn’t want to think about it.

 

> Hi Ezra,  
>  Thanks for your offer. I’m not sure what to say, in fact. It’s very nice of you but, as I said, don’t worry about it. Everything is okay.  
>  You know, I’m not a hardcore movie buff either. Nor music. As proof, I told you what I like and I’m sure there are purists in these areas who’d scoff at my choices (even if they’re wrong). I have a simple rule of thumb – if it makes me feel good, then it’s cool and I enjoy it, otherwise, forget it.  
>  Well, this all leads me to reveal my other hobby. I’ve held you in suspense long enough. I like taking care of plants. So there. It’s nothing exciting. I only have one potted plant at the moment (I don’t really have the capability to do too much here), but it helps me relax.  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. I’m just used to being typecast as soon as people find out about my background. I wouldn’t say that I’m an angel. Most people think I’m a punk, but I wonder if they’d think differently if my family were different.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I want to believe you for now.  Just be assured that my offer is sincere (in case you doubt it).  
>  I completely understand your approach to the arts. Maybe we should discuss other artistic and cultural interests. It would be a good way to find out more about each other – what do you think?  
>  Regarding your mysterious hobby – I am surprised! Why did you keep it a secret? It’s a wonderful pastime. I like flowers, plants, all creations of nature – but I don’t have what one would call a green thumb. Plants are much too sensitive, and I forget to water them. What kind of plant do you have?  
>  With affectionate regards,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. One of the advantages of this type of correspondence is I only know you by your words. Only by what you write. So actually, I do know that sometimes you can be irritating. I had trouble coming to terms with the ‘A’ incident, for example (surely your ‘punk’ side, as you called it).  
>  Nevertheless, I have seen other sides of you, and it is fun to learn about you little by little.

 

> Hey Ezra,  
>  You know what? You just gave me a great idea. Wait for the next letter; I’m gonna get something ready for you.  
>  I guess if you’re too engrossed in your books, you might forget to water a plant? The plant I have is called a sensitive plant (Mimosa pudica _is its Latin name). It means a lot to me. It’s the only thing I have that is only mine. Thus, I’m very careful that nothing happens to it (by this, I mean I lock my door when I leave my room so no one can hurt it).  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. Thanks. I don’t know what else to say… except that I feel the same. At first you seemed pretty condescending, but you’ve shown me that you’re also kind and patient. I’m starting to change my mind about the workshop._

__

> Dear Anthony,  
>  You’ve made me curious; what do you have in mind?  
>  I feel called out! That’s exactly why I would be (am?) bad with plants!  
>  I’ve heard of that plant, and I’m tempted to say something, but I’m not sure how you’d take it.  
>  Where did this interest come from?  
>  With affectionate regards,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. Just as you predicted, we’re finally getting along. Isn’t there a saying about how opposites attract?

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  Admit that you wondered what was in this envelope! As you now know, I’ve sent you a CD. I’ve burned you a collection of Queen songs. I’ve included my favorites. And guess what? It’s a CD-RW so you can burn me your own compilation. I thought it’d me more fun to do it this way rather than just list a bunch of songs to look up on the internet. It’s more suspenseful this way!  
>  What were you going to say? You’ve said just enough to make be curious and I know you did it on purpose! C’mon, spit it out!  
>  I have my mother to thank for my interest in plants. She was very fond of flowers, and I learned some of it from her. I have a funny story to tell about it (later).  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. There’s some truth in that proverb. Having things in common is good, but having differences and sharing them is even better.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  What a wonderful idea! I’ve started listening to your collection and I must admit I’m not used to listening to this kind of music – but I can’t deny that it’s catchy. As soon as I finish, I’ll return the CD with my own additions. I’ll keep the contents a surprise because, as you pointed out, it’s more fun that way!  
>  As for my comment…do not take it wrong but I want to say: like plant, like gardener? I know the sensitive plant folds up its leaves if it’s touched or brushed, and sometimes you react in this way when a topic is too personal.  
>  What is your anecdote?  
>  With affectionate regards,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. Isn’t it great that we’re already expanding each other’s musical culture? Also, I must admit that I look forward to getting your letters!

 

Anthony felt a bit exposed by Ezra’s comparison. Was he really that easy to read? This correspondence thing was beginning to get weird. It was impossible for him to keep his distance; he always ended up saying more than he’d intended. He promised himself he’d be more careful.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  Haha! I knew you were going to like my idea! Take your time listening to the CD, and don’t be afraid to tell me if you don’t like it.  
>  As for your comment – I didn’t take it badly. But let’s not talk about that again, okay?  
>  So the story goes: when I was little, I had my own way of taking care of flowers. In fact, if I didn’t think they were growing fast enough, I would begin to threaten them daily. I thought if they were scared enough, they’d obey me. I’m sure you’re reading this and laughing. Well, I assure you that I quickly found out it didn’t work. I do not traumatize my current plant.  
>  But that's enough about me – I’m not going to monopolize these letters! What can you tell me about you?  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. You’re not the only one. I can finally admit that you are right. Letters do have a certain appeal.

 

Anthony sighed. So much for his promise to himself. Why did Ezra have this strange effect on him? He couldn’t restrain himself.

Anthony could not contain his excitement when he got the next letter. It was quite thick; a sign that Ezra had returned the CD.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  It’s my turn to send you a mystery CD! I hope you enjoy what I’ve concocted. I have no complaints about your choices. I admit that they are very different from what I usually listen to, but they’re not bad at all.  
>  Your story made me laugh a lot! I’m not making fun of it; it’s just amusing what we remember from our childhoods. I have a story to tell myself. When I was little, my father had not yet decided to be a writer. He was a bookseller. In my eyes, it was the most wonderful thing! Just think – all those books at your fingertips! My father would allow me to read them as long as I was extremely careful not to damage them (so that he could still sell them). Except for one slight problem – I was extremely possessive and I didn’t want customers to buy my precious books. But how could I prevent this without my father noticing? I had two tricks: one was to hide my favorite books, the other was to write ‘Reserved’ on a slip of paper I stuck into the books in question. My father didn’t really appreciate my strategies, and once they were discovered, I have to admit I was punished. Who is the ‘bad influence’ now?  
>  With warm friendship,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I knew I would be able to convince you sooner or later. I’m glad that it was sooner.

 

Anthony couldn’t help laughing as he read Ezra’s story. It was something he could imagine him doing. He opened his desk drawer and added the letter to the small box in which he kept the others.

Filled with a newfound joy, he put the CD in his computer, plugged in his headphones, and started listening to Ezra’s choices. While enjoying a Tchaikovsky symphony, his brain shouted the answer to the question he’d asked earlier – Ezra was his _friend._

 

*  *  *

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I don’t have anything new to tell you since last week, but I do have a new topic to discuss.  
>  The Christmas holidays are coming up and I was wondering if you have any plans.  
>  With warm friendship,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I hope there’s more snow this year.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t planned anything extraordinary for the holidays. Is there something that you usually do?  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. I don’t like winter… Snow is okay but only if I’m inside.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I admit that I enjoy this time of the year. Everyone seems to forget their worries and focus on the positive.  
>  I’ll spend Christmas with my father since we couldn’t get the rest of the family together, but we’ll spend some time sending greeting cards to everyone.  
>  I’m afraid to ask how things will be at your place…  
>  With warm affection,  
>  Ezra,  
>  PS. I take it you’re rather cold-blooded. Personally I like to be out and about in the cold weather. Once I’m back inside, I have a good excuse to make hot chocolate.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  I know what you mean and I hope you’ll have a good time.  
>  We don’t have anything special planned. We never do anything for birthdays, for Christmas… but don’t worry about me, I’m used to it now. Just like every year, my uncle will give us some money so we’ll be like everyone else, and that’s that. You know, I prefer it that way. If all of a sudden he gathered us together and made a speech about the importance of family, it’d be super creepy.  
>  Later,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. No need to make excuses. If I were there, I’d drink the hot chocolate without ever going outside.

 

Christmas. It was a holiday that Anthony never looked forward to. Sometimes he envied all those people who rushed to the shops at the last minute in search of the perfect gift, and then spent hours around the table enjoying each other’s company. He shook his head. It was better not to think about it. It wasn’t for him.

Thus, a few days before the fateful day, Anthony was more than surprised to discover a small package addressed to him. He opened it in his room, out of sight. Inside was a small red gift box with a pretty gold bow.

Anthony carefully opened the present, afraid of tearing the paper. It contained a scarf and a pair of matching gloves. They were made of wool in a yellow saffron color. A small card was enclosed with the gift.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I wish you a Merry Christmas!  
>  With this present, I hope that you’ll no longer fear the cold weather.  
>  With warm affection,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I hope you like the color and that everything fits…

  

Anthony was overwhelmed with emotion. Someone had actually thought about him and was trying to please him! He had a real friend. He couldn’t wait to try everything on. The material was incredibly soft and he already felt warmer. Ezra had to be thanked immediately. Anthony took off the gloves, but the scarf remained wrapped around his neck.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  Thank you very much for your gift! Don’t worry about the size; everything fits perfectly. The color is great too! Thank you!  
>  Now I feel a bit embarrassed because I wasn’t expecting anything… I promise I’ll reciprocate. I’m going to make you a surprise. I’m afraid it might take a little time, but I do promise to send you something!  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I’m delighted that you like my gift! I chose the yellow as a warm color to remind you of sunny days and forget about the harshness of winter. I’m happy I got it right.  
>  Don’t worry about sending something in return. I don’t want you to feel obligated.  
>  With warm affection,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. Happy New Year to you also.

 

Ezra was absolutely way too nice, which only doubled Anthony’s determination. The next day, he bought a small kit designed for growing plants. Unfortunately, the time of year was not ideal for finding green treasures, so he had to resort to other means.

After a few weeks, Anthony was beginning to get worried. Out of the six bulbs, four had sprouted, but none of the clovers had the right number of leaves. The fifth was no luckier. Anthony was already envisioning his plan falling apart from the cruel irony of fate, but the last bulb was the answer to his prayer. In this little pot was the only four-leaf clover. Anthony carefully picked it and pressed it between the pages of an old dictionary to dry. His patience had been severely tested, and he feared that Ezra had given up on him, but the end result was near..

When the clover was pressed thin as paper, Anthony picked it up and gingerly placed it in the middle of a plasticized sheet. He placed a sticky contact sheet over the first, sealing in the dried plant and taking care not to trap any air bubbles. All that remained was to cut the edges to the desired shape. For this, he went to a stationery store which had a machine that specialized in cutting a clean edge without any burrs. Anthony opted for a fairly classic design. He finished it off by rounding the edges and punching a small hole to slip through a thin golden tassel.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  Your patience is finally rewarded. I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long, but I wanted to make something special for you.  
>  It’s not much, but I hope you like this gift and that it brings you a little luck.  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. I’ll return the CD to you soon.

 

Anthony wrapped the bookmark in tissue paper and slipped it into an envelope. He hoped that Ezra would appreciate his present.

 

> Dear Anthony,  
>  I’m speechless. I don’t know how to thank you. In addition to my collection of books, I also have an accumulation of bookmarks, but this one is definitely the best. Moreover, you made it yourself (don’t deny it to be modest, I know you did and I think I know you pretty well now). I am deeply touched. Thank you very much.  
>  With warm affection,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I cannot wait to hear your new additions to the CD.

 

Anthony felt embarrassed. Ezra had anticipated his reaction. Was he really so predictable? Never mind. Ezra had loved his gift, and that was all that mattered to him.

 

* * *

 

Anthony could not choose between the selfies he’d just taken. He’d spent a good hour taking photos, but deciding was difficult. He scrolled through one after another of the cliché poses in case one of them might click. He wanted to look good, but not too formal. So no school uniform. He wanted to seem cool, but not phony. So no moodily staring off into the distance. He wanted to look natural, but not too unsophisticated. So no posing with his plant. At this rate, he was never going to settle on the right one before D-Day.

Ezra had had the idea that it would be nice to finally put a face to a name. Anthony agreed that they should have done it a long time ago, but Ezra had to create a rule for the exchange. They’d selected a date when each would send a photo to the other. By doing this, neither would influence the other. As as result, Anthony was afraid he’d be considered an idiot.

Anthony sighed and ran a hand over his face. Why was he doing all this? It was just a stupid picture to send to Ezra. It’s not like there was a reason to impress him, right? Well? Maybe… He tried to ignore the little voice that he was putting way too much thought into this for just a friend.

He’d just about resigned himself to taking a new series of photos when he reached the next-to-last one. In it, he was wearing his sunglasses and a 007-logo T-shirt. He was making a victory sign with his left hand, but most importantly, his smile was genuine. The more he looked at it, the more Anthony liked the photo. It was a good one. All that remained was to print it.

Anthony saved the file on a flash drive and took along some homework sheets that would serve as an excuse in case he got caught. He stood up and listened for sounds in the hallway beyond his bedroom door. No suspicious noises. Perfect. He slowly unlocked the door and cracked it open to check again. He waited a few seconds, then tiptoed to his uncle’s office. He slowly pulled down the handle while looking behind him. Finally, Anthony entered the room where the Holy Grail was located.

Insert the stick into the USB port… done. Navigate to the printer menu… done. Select the photo file... done. Check the print settings… done. Insert the glossy paper… done. Click print… done. Why was the printer so loud? Anthony prayed that no one could hear it. The picture was taking forever to print! Once the operation was completed, Anthony pulled out the stick and made sure he'd left no evidence of his clandestine mission. He hid the photo in-between his homework sheets and returned down the hall.

As he closed the door to his room, Anthony thought he heard the floor creak, but he waited a moment and heard only silence. The adrenaline that had kept him on edge finally dissipated. He sat in his chair and checked the quality of the print. It looked great. Mission accomplished! He carefully trimmed the edges and slipped the picture into the envelope. He wrote a note to include with it.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  As you must have guessed, this is me. I happened to find a nice photo buried on my cell phone.  
>  I look forward to seeing yours.  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. I hope that you're not too disappointed.

  

A few days after the appointed date, Anthony returned home with anticipation. According to his calculations, Ezra’s photo should have arrived today. He checked through the mail on the living room table. There was nothing for him. It was very strange.

“Is this what you want?”

Anthony turned around to see Hastur brandishing a letter above his head. A dull rage swelled through him.

“Give that back to me now.”

Hastur ignored him and looked at the return address.

“He writes to you all the time, this… Ezra.”

“Why’s that _your_ problem? I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

Hastur scowled. “You’d better not talk to me like that!”

“Or else what?”

“I could burn this letter that you’re _so_ eager to get back.”

Anthony swallowed hard. Above all, he mustn’t look panicky. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Go ahead, but maybe you‘re not aware of one small detail. It’s not a personal letter; it’s a requirement for school.”

Anthony could see his remark slowly working its way inside his cousin’s brain.

“If you think that burning my homework is a good idea, go ahead and do it. Your father’s going to love it.”

“I know that you went into his office without permission!”

“I needed to print out something for a class. What do you think will make your father more furious: if I print a sheet of paper without his permission or if you burn my homework?”

Anthony was smug, but he didn’t want to go too far. He had to keep this illusion up long enough for his plan to work.

“Here,” Hastur growled, throwing the envelope onto the table. “But I’m not done with you. Neither is Ligur. We’ll find a way to make you break.”

Anthony suppressed a smirk, thinking back to his last acts of vengeance. He’d swapped all the names on his cousin’s cell phone contacts and, from what he’d overheard, Hastur had argued with some of his friends over that. As for Ligur, Anthony had replaced the water in his bedside glass with some from the aquarium. Apparently Ligur had just about taken a sip, but was forewarned by the smell. He’d still been grossed out by touching it to his lips.

Anthony took the letter and retreated to his room without further ado. He made sure the door was locked behind him before releasing a shaky breath. His hands were jittery. He tried to calm himself with steady breathing. He nervously opened the envelope.

 

> My dear Anthony,

 

His heart leapt at the sight of the first words.

 

> Like we agreed, here’s my photo. It is the best that I could find.  
>  Warm regards,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I hope it’s not too far off what you imagined.

 

Anthony grinned at the similarities between their letters. He examined the photo of a young man reading in an armchair. With his round face and blond curls, he looked to Anthony to be as innocent as an angel. At this thought, his heart raced again. He continued to gaze at the picture for several minutes before sighing. It was official. He was screwed.

 

> ~~Hey Ezra!~~  
>  ~~You look really good in this~~  
> 

 

> ~~Hey Ezra!~~  
>  ~~Your photo is great~~  
> 

 

> ~~Hey Ezra!~~  
>  ~~I’m not disappointed at all~~  
> 

 

Anthony wadded up the newest beginning and tossed it in the trash with the others. How could he give an appropriate compliment while still sounding like just a friend? Everything would be simpler if he just confessed… no. Too reckless. Ezra was way out of his league. It was out of the question to jeopardize their friendship. He couldn’t risk Ezra seeing him act this way for fear of gaining false hopes. He responded with this in mind.

 

> Hey Ezra!  
>  I just got your picture and you have nothing to worry about. It looks exactly as I imagined and you look very kind. I’m happy to finally know what you look like.  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. After the photos, it’d be nice to see each other for real one day.>

 

> My dear Anthony,  
>  I’m sorry to make you wait. I wanted to send you a letter right after getting your photograph, but I decided to wait for yours to resume our normal exchange.  
>  Thank you for your comments about me, although I don’t think it’s kindness radiating from me, but rather an attitude of ‘don’t bother me.’  
>  I wish you weren’t wearing sunglasses in your photograph - they hide your eyes, but your smile displays the same enthusiasm that comes through in your letters (you even look a bit mischievous). You chose a good photo!  
>  With warm regards,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. For the moment, it may be difficult to find a time to meet (especially since my father has decided to move), but yes, it’s a good idea.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  Don’t worry about the delay, you were right to wait.  
>  Would you believe, now I’m sorry that we don’t go to the same high school. We could talk to each other for real. Our letters are starting to sound like a conversation, but on a time delay.  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. Where are you moving to?

 

> My dear Anthony,  
>  I feel the same way, but I am very happy to have met you through this workshop, even if, as you’ve indicated, our letters are more like _texts_ than real letters (please don’t send me another ‘A’).  
>  With warm friendship,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. Somewhere in London, but I’ll tell you more when the time comes.

 

* * *

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  Today, I realized that the workshop ends next month. It really hit me. I know we can still write each other afterward, but since the workshop brought us together, it feels weird that it’s ending.  
>  It made me wonder – what are you doing next year?  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. I received your latest compilation and will listen to it soon.

 

> My dear Anthony,  
>  I understand how you feel; I feel the same way.  
>  Next year, I’ll probably be doing much the same thing, and then head off for university. I don’t feel ready to declare a major, but as you can imagine, literature will be a central focus.  
>  What are you planning to do?  
>  With affectionate friendship,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I hope you’ll like it.

 

> Hi Ezra!  
>  That doesn’t surprise me and I am sure you’ll be successful at anything you do.  
>  As for me, I have to continue to play the game until I turn 18. At that time, I can finally decide what I really want to do. My uncle wants me to join his business, but that would suck.  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. You haven’t disappointed me yet.

 

> My dear Anthony,  
>  Thank you very much for your kind words.  
>  Have you tried talking to your uncle about your point of view? With your interests, you could probably get an internship at the end of this school year, right?  
>  With warm friendship,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. I hope I never disappoint you.

 

> Hey Ezra!  
>  The last time I tried to make him understand that I just wasn’t interested, it didn’t go well. But yes, I would like to start horticulture studies. I’ve already checked out some interesting schools.  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. I don’t think I’ve told you yet, but I want you to know you’re my best friend.

 

> My dear Anthony,  
>  I really hope that you’ll be able to study that subject. I know it’s a topic that interests you and you’ll be really happy with it. It would be unfortunate if you were not able to follow this path.  
>  With warm friendship,  
>  Ezra  
>  PS. Thank you for considering me as such. You are my best friend too.

 

Anthony stared at the postscript with a pounding heart. He felt incredibly lucky to have this kind of relationship with Ezra. During the workshop, they’d discussed many things; they’d shared their points of view, their feelings, on sometimes sensitive topics. They’d had some disagreements, but nothing had prevented them from getting even closer. Ezra had become a dear friend, and Anthony refused to lose him.

 

*  *  *

 

Anthony locked the door to his room and leaned against it. He slid to the floor and looked vacantly at the ceiling. He replayed the scene from the literature course in his head.

__

_“I’m going to pass out these large envelopes. Take one each, and write down your name and the name of your partner. Put all the envelopes from your correspondence inside, and seal it. I’ll go through each one to grade your work.”_

__

Anthony had looked around the room, and none of the other students were having problems closing their envelopes. For him, it had been a whole different story. He’d finally managed to fit everything inside. The bubble envelopes that had protected the CDs had made it difficult.

__

Was he the only one who’d taken the game seriously? ‘Game’ wasn’t really the right word. At least, not anymore. Even Mrs. Milton had noticed how thick his envelope was in comparison. She’d given him a big smile. Anthony had just wanted to dig a hole and hide.

__

The workshop was over. He was no longer required to write to Ezra. But he didn’t want to stop. Besides, nothing now prevented him from asking for a phone number or email address so they could talk more often.

__

Anthony sat at his desk happily writing what should be his last handwritten letter.

 

> Hey Ezra!  
>  Today was the big day: my teacher collected the envelopes. Suddenly, I realized we don’t have to send each other letters anymore. We can if you prefer, but I thought we could send emails or texts, right? We could talk more often that way. What do you think?  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. Sorry this letter is short, but I wrote it on a whim and don’t really know what else to add.

 

 After a week with no answer, Anthony wondered if his letter had gotten lost. He wrote another one.

 

> Hey Ezra!  
>  Maybe my last letter didn’t make it to you. Or maybe you haven’t had time to answer yet? If that’s the case you can skip the next few lines.  
>  In the other letter, I asked if you might be interested in exchanging emails or phone numbers. I thought it might be nice to talk whenever we want, instead of waiting for the mail.  
>  I hope you are well, I’m looking forward to your answer.  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. Sorry, I feel like I’m bothering you.

 

After another week of silence, Anthony started to feel like he’d done something wrong. He must have been too impatient. Maybe Ezra preferred to communicate via letter, and was hesitating because he didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Anthony decided to wait just a little longer.

 

*  *  *

 

A month had passed. Anthony’s brain whirled with questions and assumptions that made him edgy. Ezra couldn’t just walk away like that, right? He must have said something to upset his friend. He searched his memory, but his thoughts were too muddled. How could he have pushed away his best friend? Anthony’s heart seemed to stop for a moment. What if Ezra had guessed? What if it had made him uncomfortable? Anthony held his head in his hands. Suddenly, he remembered something. Clinging to this glimmer of hope, he wrote.

 

> Hi Ezra,  
>  I hope you have been well.  
>  I remember that you told me that your father was planning to move. I guess if you are moving (or getting ready), you don’t have much time to write. I’m sorry I’ve been bugging you. I can wait until you have time.  
>  My teacher gave us our workshop grades, and since I got a good grade, I bet you did too. Other than that, I’m getting ready for exams. I guess you are too and I wish you good luck (even though I know you’ll do well).  
>  Later, dude  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. Don’t forget to send me your new address.

 

Anthony thought about looking for Ezra’s number in a phone directory since he hadn’t gotten his cell number. Maybe there was a chance he had a landline. He felt a little bit like a stalker. On one hand, his last remaining shred of pride prevented him; on the other hand, he wasn’t sure what was worse – to know that Ezra had moved without forwarding his new address, or that he was still in Shrewsbury, but deliberately ignoring his letters.

 

 *  *  *

 

Two weeks later, Anthony took his time collecting his things at the end of the literature course. After his classmates had left, he approached his teacher.

__

“Mrs. Milton?”

__

She looked up from packing her bag and gave him a warm smile. Anthony felt terribly embarrassed. He was already sorry about this.

__

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

__

“Of course.”

__

He had to plunge ahead without further thought.

__

“Are you still in touch with the other teacher?” he asked. “About the correspondence workshop,” he added, seeing her confusion.

__

“From time to time, yes. Why do you ask?”

__

Anthony wasn’t sure what to do next. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. If he put them in his pockets, he’d look disrespectful, but they were betraying his embarrassment.

__

“Do you think he might know if any of his students were moving or had problems?”

__

He was relieved he hadn’t stuttered, but the look in his teacher’s eyes revealed that she’d seen right through him. Subtlety was not his forte.

__

“Your partner isn’t writing to you anymore?”

__

Anthony grimaced. Her lack of tact felt like a knife in a raw wound.

__

“I’m very surprised to hear that. You two wrote to each other more than anyone else. Most of the other pairings were satisfied with a letter per month. Seeing two students use the exercise to write to each other weekly, if not more, was unexpected but very nice.”

__

Anthony looked down and gritted his teeth to keep from responding. He didn’t want to be reminded how important the correspondence had been to him.

__

“I’m sorry it ended this way,” continued Mrs. Milton. “Sometimes people just take a different direction, and even if they are dear to us, there’s nothing we can do about it. You just have to accept it.”

__

A lump formed in Anthony’s throat. He didn’t want to hear this ‘life lesson.’ Not now. It hurt too much. He didn’t want to fall apart. Not now.

__

“Sorry to have bothered you,” he mumbled before escaping as fast as his legs could carry him.

__

When he got home, Anthony noticed his bedroom door was ajar. He must have forgotten to lock it when he’d left. He feared the worst. Upon entering, he viewed the carnage. His sensitive plant was lying uprooted on the carpet. The pot was shattered into a thousand pieces. There was dirt everywhere. He stooped down to see if the plant could be saved, but its stems seemed to have been cut off with scissors, and the roots hadn’t been spared either.

__

Anthony forced back the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him and began to clean up. Let ‘em go to hell. All of them.

 

*  *  *

 

After another month with no word from Ezra, and after getting his exam results, Anthony resigned himself to try one more time. Sitting at his desk, he took a deep breath and began to write.

 

> _Dear Ezra,  
>  I don’t know if this letter will reach you. I hope so, because this is the last one I’m going to send, and I want you to read it so I’ll try to keep it short.  
>  I’m sorry if I said something to offend you, or worse, hurt you. I assure you it was never my intention, and if I’ve made that mistake, I apologize.  
>  You already know this, but at first I thought the workshop was stupid. You may never know how much you made me change my mind. Please know that your friendship meant a lot to me, and that it made me happy to write back and forth with you.  
>  I hope you are well, wherever you are, and I wish you good luck in the future._  
>  Your friend,  
>  Anthony  
>  PS. If you ever decide to contact me again, don’t write me here at the house. Your letter won’t get to me. Here’s my cell number:

 

Anthony read it again, then scrawled his number at the bottom of the letter. He then grabbed the CD on which he’d burned a Queen compilation and slipped everything into a padded envelope. He spent the rest of the evening packing his suitcase. In the end, he really didn’t own that much. The last thing he had to decide was the fate of all the correspondence. He could tear it up, throw it away, or even burn it, but each option required more effort than he had energy. Ultimately, he could not make the break from this part of himself. He shoved the box into the corner of the suitcase.

At dawn, Anthony left the house he hated so much, and dropped his envelope in the nearest mailbox.


	2. "Can't we give ourselves one more chance?"

Ezra realized he’d just read the same paragraph three times in a row without comprehension. He sat up in his chair and checked his watch. It was almost two in the afternoon. He wasn’t surprised. The book had been captivating, but his body had limits, and his concentration was beginning to fail. He’d better take a short lunch break before leaving to meet with his thesis advisor. Ezra stretched for several seconds, then put away his belongings before leaving the library.

Once outside, he turned toward Gordon Square Garden. Since he’d started at the University of London, its proximity had made the park his favorite place to hang out when he wasn’t at the library. He sat on a bench and started to eat his sandwich, taking care not to drip anything on his shirt. After swallowing the last bite, he wiped his hands and lips with a cloth handkerchief, and tossed the sandwich wrapper in a nearby bin. Resettling on the bench, he again checked his watch. He still had a little bit of time. The park was bathed in warm sunshine, and it was difficult not to relax.

He opened his bag and glanced over its contents. Ignoring his research work for the moment, he selected one of his personal reading books. He was about to start the chapter he’d marked when he was hit by a wave of nostalgia. He stared at the bookmark. Ezra was not overly superstitious, but this four-leaf clover always seemed to pop up whenever an important event was about to happen in his life. He couldn’t help a touch of melancholy as he remembered who’d given him the modest gift.

Ezra sighed. At the time, he’d convinced himself he’d acted for their common good, but sometimes he was overcome with regret. Too much water had now gone under the bridge, and the reason for his decision had almost faded into memory. It would be so easy to reconnect. All he had to do was scroll down the contacts in his phone and touch an icon, but he wouldn’t do it. There was no reason to reopen an old wound after so many years.

The thumping of a bass guitar interrupted his thoughts. Ezra recognized the riff as the beginning of _Another One Bites the Dust_.  He smiled wistfully. That particular song also brought back many memories. And he’d never have known it today if he’d hadn’t…

“Crowley. Go ahead.”

Ezra’s heart skipped a beat. No. It was impossible. A coincidence like that just doesn’t happen. His ears must have deceived him. He discreetly turned toward the source of the phone conversation. His eyes searched the surroundings until they settled on a man with jet-black hair wearing sunglasses. He was wearing gardening gloves and held a trowel in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Yeah, I’ll finish here and then take care of it. OK. Yes, I’ll call back later.”

The man hung up and put the phone in his shorts pocket. Ezra had only one thought: Could it really be him? The evidence left little room for doubt, but the likelihood was so improbable, he could hardly believe it. Motivated by adrenaline, Ezra grabbed his own phone and pressed the number that would answer the question.

The first few measures of the song rang out again. The gardener looked at his screen as if trying to recognize the number, but Ezra hung up before he picked up the call. The man shrugged, as if for a wrong number.

Ezra was stunned. Should he respect his past decision, or jump right back in? Should he listen to reason, or his emotions? He looked down at the bookmark laying on his open novel, prompting him to take this chance, an opportunity to make things right. Ezra hurriedly packed up his things and stood up, making his way toward the gardener who was digging in a flower bed. He was too engrossed in his task to notice that someone was now standing beside him.

Ezra quietly cleared his throat to signal his presence.

“Anthony?”

The addressee turned his head. Ezra gripped the shoulder strap of his bag.

“I’m not sure if you’ll remember me…” he started.

Anthony stood up and, despite his sunglasses, Ezra could sense his questioning look. When he spoke, he sounded surprised.

“Ezra?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Small world, isn’t it?” he added, silently cursing his banality.

Anthony remained silent.

“How have you been?” asked Ezra.

He was afraid he’d made the wrong decision. He should have remained in the shadows instead of being so forward. After all these years, he’d finally cracked, only to get a frigid response.

Anthony shook his head, took off his gloves, and extended a hand to Ezra, inviting him to shake.

“I’m sorry, I just have a hard time believing that it’s really you…” he apologized with a warm smile. “How are you?”

Relief released the burden on Ezra’s heart. He took the proffered hand.

“I’ve been fine, thank you. I’d ask about you, but it looks like you already have your dream job,” he said, tilting his head toward the flowers.

“True… but it’s good that a certain someone encouraged me, otherwise I’d be withering away in an office!”

Anthony punctuated his words with a mischievous smile. How he could seem so casual was a mystery to Ezra, who was a nervous wreck.

“I come regularly to this park, but this is the first time I’ve seen you here.”

“Oh, today was special; I took a co-worker’s place. I usually work in another part of the city.”

The implication of his response left Ezra speechless. Anyone in a similar situation would call it fate.

“And you? What are you up to?”

“I’m in the first year of a doctorate in history of literature.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Anthony. “That sounds just like you!”

How could Ezra have decided that burning bridges was the best idea? Even though their conversation was superficial, Anthony spoke with enthusiasm, as though seven years hadn’t gone by. As if their friendship hadn’t ended.

“I have to see my thesis supervisor this afternoon. I thought that sitting here in the sun would be a good way to kill time.”

“It is a good idea,” Anthony approved with a smile. “But I hope I’m not holding you up.”

“No, I think I still have…” Ezra started. “Oh shit! Already?”

Ezra didn’t want to leave Anthony so soon. Was that wrong? They’d spent so many years apart, but after this brief conversation, was it odd that he felt unable to let him go?

“Listen, would you like to go get something to eat sometime?” Anthony proposed. “I don’t know if you’re free later this week or maybe the weekend…”

Ezra’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

“Don’t look like that – it’s not like I’m inviting you to the Ritz. It’s just I think it’d be nice to catch up on things and then… It’ll be fun – a reunion, right?”

Anthony said this offhandedly, but Ezra could see that he was nervously gripping his gloves. He smiled to himself. Anthony was as uncomfortable as he was, but was concealing it with the same nonchalant tone he’d adopted for his letters.

“I have no plans yet this weekend. How about lunch on Saturday?”

Anthony’s face lit up.

“Keen! By the way, do you still like sushi? I know a great Japanese restaurant!”

Ezra nodded. Anthony had a good memory. He must’ve mentioned that detail once in all their correspondence.

“Perfect! I’ll make the reservation and send you the address and the time. Should we meet in front of the restaurant?”

“That’s fine. Let me give you my number.”

If Anthony had noticed that it was the same as the one from the earlier call, he didn’t react. Ezra’s phone received a notification.

“Well, I won’t hold you up any longer!”

“Until Saturday, then?”

Anthony put on his gloves and waved. “See you Saturday!”

Ezra regretfully departed, but was thrilled with the turn of events. Before knocking on his advisor’s door, he opened Anthony’s message. _"Have a good day"_ it said, with a winking emoticon. Ezra wondered if he might be playing a dangerous game to renew these bonds, but he promised himself not to make the same mistake as before.

 

* * *

 

Annoyed, Ezra glanced at his watch. At this rate, he was going to be late. He’d taken a bus to meet at the restaurant, but the traffic definitely hadn’t been in his favor. He’d decided to get off one stop early and continue on foot. Making better time, he soon saw the sign for the restaurant and recognized Anthony’s silhouette outside. He waved at Ezra when he spotted him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ezra apologized as he arrived.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anthony assured him. “Look! My phone says you’re right on time.”

His reassuring smile would have been enough put Ezra at ease if he hadn’t been mesmerized by Anthony’s eyes. Up to this point, he’d only seen Anthony in sunglasses, a ploy that had deprived Ezra of seeing them. Until now. Anthony’s irises were an unusual color – amber, like honey. Combined with his grin, the effect was one of wholesome sweetness.

“Um… Are you alright?” Anthony asked.

Ezra regained his senses.

“Sorry. I was just thinking this is the first time I’ve seen you without your sunglasses.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Trust me, there’s nothing remarkable behind them.”

Ezra started to object, but thought better of it. Complementing an old friend on the beauty of his eyes might not be entirely appropriate in this situation.

They entered the restaurant and sat at the sushi bar. The choice suited Ezra. Sitting side-by-side seemed a lot less awkward than sitting face-to-face. Especially with the embarrassed silence that now surrounded them as they waited for their meals.

Ezra was relieved that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t start a conversation. Anthony was nervously bouncing his knee.

“Well,” he said suddenly. “Sorry not to say something more clever, but we have to start somewhere. How long have you been in London?”

Ezra couldn’t help smiling. Some things never changed.

“Since I graduated high school. I…”

He paused. That revelation might not go down well.

“Oh. I see. For your college education, I guess.”

Anthony’s tone concealed how he felt, but Ezra was not fooled. He tried to change subjects.

“And how about you? Is London treating you well?”

“Well, it was a bit complicated at first. I didn’t come here right away. As for my job, I work for a company that services business clients and individuals.”

“Do you often work maintaining public parks?”

“That’s one of the opportunities, yes.”

“What did you mean by ‘complicated?’ ”

Anthony paused before answering. Ezra was worried he’d gone too far.

“You knew my situation at the time,” Anthony started.

Ezra nodded.

“My uncle threatened that if I wanted a job, and I quote, ‘as useless as being a gardener,’ I could hit the road. So that’s what I did. I didn’t wait the two years.”

“But how did you… “

“How did I survive?”

Ezra nodded hesitantly.

“I took odd jobs. Eventually, during the two years, I ran through my savings. I didn’t want to work full-time at the same time I was studying. I didn’t think that would work out.”

Ezra felt ashamed. He hadn’t been there for his best friend during such a difficult time. Anthony must have noticed his look of dejection.

“But don’t worry, I wasn’t wasting my time,” he added with a smile. “Some of those jobs gave me experience for my studies. And now, everything’s fine. I have a job I like and I’m free.”

Still that carefree attitude. It had become his personal signature.

“I’m happy for you,” Ezra finally responded.

“But you’ve got a long face.” Anthony raised his eyebrows.

Ezra bit his lip.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you all these years,” he feebly apologized.

Anthony gravely thought this over a moment.

“You’ll simply have to make amends, then,” he announced.

Ezra regarded him with apprehension, waiting for the verdict.

“I’d tell you that you have to pay your own tab, but I invited you and I don’t think that’d be right. So now you owe me a lunch,” teased Anthony.

Ezra released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Anthony always surprised him. How could he make jokes about such a thing?

“More seriously, though,” Anthony added, “I propose that we make a clean sweep of it and start over from the beginning.”

He raised his glass in a toast. Ezra hesitated, then raised his own.

“To a new friendship,” Anthony enthused.

“To a new friendship,” repeated Ezra with conviction.

After this interlude, lunch became less awkward. As conversation became easier, they truly acted like old friends who’d simply lost track of one another, and wanted to catch up.

The restaurant ended up not being their last stop. By mutual agreement, they continued exchanging anecdotes as they strolled the streets. As their broken connection was renewed, the past no longer seemed of concern.

As afternoon waned, they headed toward the place where Anthony had parked his car.

“Do you want a ride?” asked Anthony.

“I wouldn’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

“It’s no problem,” his friend insisted, then frowned. “Unless you’re afraid of riding with me?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” Ezra quickly corrected.

“I was only joking. C’mon, get in!”

Anthony hit the play button and a song poured from the speakers. Ezra smirked as he recognized Queen. His friend must have noticed, for he shrugged and said, “I haven’t changed _that_ much.”

Anthony dropped Ezra off in front of his building and waved as he pulled away. Once Ezra was back in his apartment, he dropped into his chair with a euphoric smile. Half an hour later, he guessed that Anthony should be back home. He pulled out his phone and wrote a text:

_“I had a wonderful day. Thank you.”_

New message notification:

_“You’re welcome I had a good time too. Let’s do it again soon.”_

_“I’m glad we found each other.”_

Sending the message had a sobering effect. Ezra felt he’d gotten too carried away, and now, every second of silence overwhelmed him with regret. That was one reason he’d liked the letters. They’d always offered enough time to think things through, favoring reflection over impulsiveness. The message tone interrupted his thoughts.

_“Me too.”_

Ezra heaved a sigh of relief. It had been risky, but ultimately things had turned in his favor. He was determined not to let this new opportunity slip away.

 

* * *

 

Three months had passed since the momentous reunion, and the two friends had seen each other on a regular basis. When they were apart, they texted each other, and sometimes sent emails if the message was too long, but they never called one another. It was if they’d agreed to an unspoken pact on the pleasure of written correspondence.

It had been only three months, but already Ezra was feeling the strain. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t make the same mistake, but now he realized he hadn’t been honest with himself. He never should have called Anthony. He never should been reading in the park. He never should have gone to the park to begin with. He found it difficult to write with these thoughts in his head… but interacting face-to-face was a different story.

Ezra now knew all of Anthony’s little idiosyncrasies. His habit of tapping the wheel to the rhythm of the music, the way his sunglasses slipped down his nose when he wanted to support a point with a look, his tendency to bite down on the tip of his tongue when he was concentrating, his method of hiding discomfort with nonchalantness… Ezra could spend hours going over every detail, and each of them made his heart sing. Except one.

Anthony always arrived early whenever they met up somewhere – to the extreme that it redefined the concept of punctuality. Ezra wondered if his friend had a sixth sense for it, because it didn’t matter if he tried to get there earlier. Anthony was always there first. Ezra had initially found this adorable, until he noticed Anthony’s expression before seeing him. His face was frozen like marble. His mouth was a simple inert line. His eyes stared blankly into a void. His whole posture emanated misery. The first time he’d noticed, he’d hurried to check on his friend, but upon seeing him, Anthony’s entire demeanor changed. His features came alive. A radiant smile lit up his face. His pupils sparkled with happiness. He looked like a puppy that couldn’t contain its joy. Ezra had questioned him about his well-being, but his friend’s response was elusive. And by now, Ezra had seen this happen a number of times

It disturbed Ezra to see this image and his brain tirelessly rehashed it. He saw the transformation over and over again, and it always made him feel miserable. Did Anthony have personal problems? Was _he_ the cause of Anthony’s problems? Was Anthony suffering because of their friendship? Was he reliving too many bad memories? Did Anthony want their relationship to end? Ezra could not help imagining how cheerful his friend had been as he received each letter a few years ago but then how he must have become more and more withdrawn when they stopped coming.

Ezra sighed as he sat at his desk, unable to concentrate on his work. He was aware he’d done wrong by Anthony, and running away would only make things worse. Too often, he’d acted without thinking about how it would affect his friend. They needed to talk about what had happened in the past. Ezra felt the need to explain the reason behind his silence – the reason that still haunted him today – but he could only share it if he’d gotten his friend’s forgiveness.

Ezra grabbed his cell phone and typed out a message.

 _“What do you say about having dinner at my place tomorrow evening?”_  

That may have been a bit too direct. He added:  

_“I’m trying to make a new dish, if you’d like to be the guinea pig.”_

A touch of humor was always a good idea, but sometimes written jokes didn’t come across well. He finished with:

_“Thank you for all the times you’ve invited me out to eat.”_

Perfect. He pressed the “Send” icon and waited for a response. It took longer than usual, and Ezra worried that Anthony might be trying to come up with an excuse to avoid him. The phone vibrated.

_“Sure, but don’t worry about making something fancy. What time?”_

Ezra was still worried he’d gone too far. The idea of a home-cooked meal at his place might have spooked his friend.

 _“How about 8 o’clock?”_  

 _“OK. Do you want me to bring something? How about something to drink?”_  

 _“No thanks; that’s not necessary. I have everything I need.”_  

 _“OK. See you tomorrow, then.”_  

_“Yes, see you soon.”_

With the plans set, Ezra felt a new sense of determination. This dinner meant too much to leave anything to chance.

 

* * *

 

By 7:30, Ezra had finished straightening up his apartment. He reviewed his preparations. The table was set. The scallops needed only to be broiled at just the last moment for the best flavor. The corkscrew was ready by the bottle of white wine. Ezra hesitated before turning on some soft music, worried that it might make the ambiance a little too contrived. All that remained was to wait for his guest.

The intercom rang fifteen minutes later. Ezra allowed himself a furtive smile. Everything was going according to plan.

“Ezra? It’s Anthony.”

“I’ll let you in now!”

“Did I get here too early?”

“No, no; don’t worry about it! There, the door’s now unlocked. My place is at the top of the stairs.”

“Okay.”

Ezra opened his door and waited on the landing. Soon, a dark head appeared on the stairs. As his friend climbed the last steps, Ezra noticed he was wearing the scarf he’d given him for Christmas all those years ago. The weather was starting to get colder, especially for someone as sensitive as Anthony. He was carrying a plant in his hands. With a guilty look, he presented it to Ezra.

“Er… I know you told me not to bring anything, but I couldn’t come empty-handed.”

Ezra gladly accepted the gift and moved aside to allow his friend to pass.

“That’s very nice of you. Please come in.”

Anthony entered, followed by Ezra, closing the door behind him.

“I know you told me that you and plants don’t get along, but this is a peace lily. It’s pretty easy to take care of,” Anthony explained. “It needs light, but not too bright, and just enough water to keep the soil moist. In fact, this plant does better when you let it dry out than when you water it too much.”

Ezra could not suppress a delighted smile. He loved listening to his friend talk about his passion.

“So then, this is the ideal plant for someone who’ll neglect it.”

“You could say that,” Anthony agreed.

Follow instructions, Ezra placed the plant in a corner of the living room that was neither too bright nor too dark.

“That looks like a good place for it,” he declared, returning. “And I can always ask you for advice if I have problems with it.”

Anthony beamed, probably pleased with the reception of his gift. Ezra belatedly suggested that he take off his coat and scarf, which he hung in the entrance closet. His friend wore a crimson shirt and black slacks. Ezra wanted to compliment him on his style, but held back for fear of embarrassing him. Anthony already seemed uptight. They walked into the living room where the table was set.

The dinner went off without a hitch. Ezra noticed Anthony’s awed look when he saw what comprised the meal, implying that their ideas of ‘nothing complicated’ differed, but his friend seemed all right with it and even complimented him. Their conversation remained on a friendly level, but Ezra hoped to steer it toward something more intimate. Getting up to remove the dessert plates, he refused Anthony’s offer to help, and returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“How about another drink to top off the evening?”

Anthony hesitated. “I’m not sure I should. I already had several glasses with dinner, and I have to drive home.”

“You could call a taxi…” suggested Ezra, not daring to finish the sentence.

His friend thought it over a few seconds before shrugging.

“That’s true. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got!”

Ezra opened the bottle and Anthony whistled as he read the label.

“Why don’t you explain how a mere student can afford a Châteauneuf-du-pape?”

“The secret is to get it from his wine-loving father,” Ezra confidentially smirked.

“He must be a man of good taste. I’ll have to meet him some day. Do you think he’d agree to exchange a bottle for some flowers?” joked Anthony.

“Um… it’s possible… if you make arrangements to help with the landscaping and yard work. You can’t imagine how neglected it gets when he’s writing.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to sense a pattern here,” his friend teased.

“You might be laughing now, but if you really want to take a look at it, you’ll be screaming of sacrilege.”

“Don’t forget that you’re talking to someone who once thought the best way to get plants to grow was to threaten them.”

They laughed heartily, the wine helping the atmosphere become more relaxed.

“Ah… I’ve really missed you all these years…” Ezra declared dreamily.

Anthony’s look darkened.

“Then why’d you disappear into thin air?” he snapped.

The sudden animosity of his words felt like a slap.

“Sorry… that just slipped out… it must be the wine…” mumbled Anthony, running a hand over his face. “I should go home…”

He started to get up, but Ezra grabbed his wrist.

“No. We need to talk.”

Anthony shook his head. “There’s nothing more to say,” he muttered, trying to free himself from Ezra’s grip. “People just take different paths in life and drift away. That’s the way it is, we can’t stop it, and we just have to accept it. We don’t need to talk about it.”

His speech sounded rote, like a convincing spiel oft-repeated. Ezra placed his other hand around Anthony’s.

“Please. Sit down and let me explain.”

His friend stared at his imprisoned hand and relented.

“Sure. Go ahead. If it will make you happy.”

Ezra let him go for fear of pushing him too far. Anthony took the opportunity to cross his arms, adopting a defensive posture. Ezra took a deep breath.

“Before getting into the details, I just wanted you to know that I’m really sorry that I broke off contact with you without a word. I'd convinced myself it was the best solution.”

“Great. This is starting off well,” Anthony snorted.

Ezra accepted this well-deserved sarcasm. There really wasn’t a better way to make this easy.

“I really loved corresponding with you,” he insisted as Anthony rolled his eyes. “You know that I was actually pretty lonely. You were the only real friend I had at the time. But little by little, I figured out what I was feeling was more than mere friendship.”

Anthony remained silent.

“Once I realized how I felt, I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know how you'd react if I told you. I was afraid that things would get tense… artificial between us… but on the other hand, it was becoming very difficult to keep talking to you as if nothing had changed.”

“Stop,” Anthony whispered.

“I thought it best to cut off all contact with you,” Ezra continued, ignoring his friend’s plea. “I was afraid to say anything lest you ask too many questions… It was stupid. I can see that now…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Anthony slammed his fist on the table.

Ezra jumped.

“Shut up,” begged his friend miserably. “Just… please… be quiet…”

Ezra obeyed, dreading what was to come. He'd never before seen Anthony angry. Anthony rose and started pacing, as if trying to control himself.

“How can you…” he spluttered, pointing at Ezra. “By what right…”

He crossed his arms tightly and continued to pace under Ezra’s worried gaze.

“You cannot tell me all this now. You _can’t…_ ”

Anthony’s voice was breaking.

“Didn’t you think I wondered what happened? I tried to hate you when you abandoned me. I couldn’t… I ended up hating myself. I thought I’d said something that made you run away. I thought it was my fault… But I kept hoping you’d come back. I waited for you to call me… I would have done anything to fix things… Then I started making up excuses…”

He paused and gripped the back of his chair.

“And just when I'd finally stopped feeling guilty… when I'd finally stopped wallowing in all that pain… you come waltzing back into my life like an angel with your sweet words…”

Ezra sheepishly stared at his lap.

“I was stupid… I thought it would be different this time… that I wouldn’t make the same mistake… but it was too late… and I fell right in again… When you’re not with me, I think about you, and it hurts… When you’re with me, it feels good, but it also hurts… I can’t control it… I should have pushed you away at the beginning… You’re hurting me so much… and I feel like it’s just a game for you…”

Anthony’s last words were stifled by a choking sound. Ezra finally dared to look up. His friend looked totally devastated, the chair barely supporting his body. His amber irises seemed a little too bright. Lastly, Ezra noticed fine damp trails running down his cheeks.

“Anthony…” he called softly.

“Shut up.”

“Are… are you crying?”

“No!” Anthony firmly denied. He felt his eyes to check.

“Shit…” he swore, wiping them dry. “I can’t believe I’m crying, dammit…”

His statement was like the breaking of a dam. Anthony turned to try to hide it, but his shoulders betrayed him, shaken by the sobs that escaped despite his attempts to hold them back. Ezra stood up quietly and slowly approached, not wanting to startle him. He gently took his friend’s hand, but Anthony didn’t grip it in return. Although Ezra knew that Anthony always hid his emotions behind a mask, seeing him so vulnerable broke his heart.

It was all his fault.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “So sorry…”

Ezra gave Anthony’s hand a squeeze as a token of his sincerity.

“I acted like a selfish idiot…”

Ezra’s throat was beginning to get tight, and it was difficult to get the words out, but he persevered.

“I don’t know if you can ever forgive me… and I wouldn’t blame you for hating me… I can disappear from your life if that’s what you want…”

Anthony choked out a sad little laugh.

“You don’t get it.  I’m already past that point.”

He sighed and turned to face Ezra.

“I can’t hate you.”

Anthony finally squeezed Ezra’s hand in return.

“I love you too much for that.”

His voice was so subdued that Ezra thought at first he had imagined the confession. He released Anthony’s hand, drew a handkerchief out of his pocket, and handed it over without a word. Anthony accepted it with a nod. Ezra knew perfectly well that in other circumstances he would have been teased mercilessly for owning a handkerchief trimmed with tartan edging, but this wasn’t the time.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” Anthony apologized after using the handkerchief. “I bet I look like a mess.”

Following his instinct, Ezra gathered Anthony into his arms. A desire finally fulfilled was more intoxicating than the finest glass of wine. Although Anthony was a bit hesitant to hug him back, Ezra could feel his heart pounding. Or was it his own?

“You don’t have to hide your weaknesses,” Ezra murmured, stroking Anthony’s back. “You don’t have to act so cool around me. I love you without your mask. I love you so much.”

Ezra realized how much Anthony had needed to hear those words when his friend grabbed him in more than a hug.

“I don’t deserve you after everything I’ve done to you,” Ezra continued. “But if you give me another chance, I promise you…”

“You talk too much…” Anthony said, burying his face in Ezra’s neck.

Ezra smiled and did the same. It was going to be easy to get used to this. Anthony didn’t seem to be wearing a scent, but the smell of his skin was exhilarating just the same. Anthony gave a small gasp of pleasure. Ezra shivered under his breath. He laid a hand on the back of Anthony’s neck and tickled the fine hairs at his nape. When Anthony looked up, Ezra studied his eyes, hoping for an answer in the glittering gold.

Ezra gently took Anthony’s face between his hands and moved closer. As he tilted his head, he suddenly thought about taking off his glasses. But luckily, they didn’t matter at all as their lips met. Their first kiss was hesitant and brief. Ezra opened his eyes to find Anthony smiling at him. A better, longer kiss was required. This time, they moved with each other, responding to each other, savoring the sweetness and softness. Ezra was surprised by Anthony’s tongue meeting with his. This new-found boldness was exciting. Their kisses were a bit awkward, but genuine. Now that they had found each other, there was plenty of time for practice.

 

* * *

 

A month later, Ezra woke as usual with the morning sunrise. However, he was no longer alone in his bed. Lying on his back, he was careful not to disturb Anthony’s slumber. He was happily trapped by one of Anthony’s arms, and one of his legs was wrapped around his. Ezra never tired of watching Anthony sleep. These moments belongs only to him, and filled his heart with infinite tenderness. To think that he might have missed all this! Remembering, he wanted to slap himself.

Anthony’s eyelashes started to flutter. Emerging from dreamland, his groan turned into a grumble.

“When will you learn to shut your blinds?” he good-naturedly complained, nestling in Ezra’s shoulder to shield his eyes from the light.

Ezra laughed. “You are absolutely the laziest gardener I know.”

“I’m allowed to sleep in when I’m not working,” protested Anthony sulkily.

Ezra gave a small grunt of assent and kissed him on the forehead. Anthony raised his eyes to look at him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Nothing special…”

Anthony leaned on his elbow and gave him an insinuating look.

“All right,” Ezra conceded. “I was thinking about how close I was to missing all this because of my stupidity.”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about that anymore.”

“I know…”

Anthony traced abstract shapes on Ezra’s chest with his fingers.

“I was also afraid to tell you how I felt at that time,” he said thoughtfully.

“What kept you from telling me?’

“The same reasons you had. Fear of rejection, and the thought that you’d think I was weird...”

“Hmm… I don’t think you should be afraid of being rejected for your looks… Besides, I’m wondering if I should go on a di…Ow!”

Anthony had just pinched his cheek.

“That was to stop you from saying such bullshit!”

Anthony stared at him intently while Ezra rubbed the tender spot.

“I forbid you from putting yourself down. You’re perfect the way you are.”

Anthony concluded his statement by hugging Ezra in such a way that he ended up almost entirely laying on top of him. Ezra returned his embrace and stroked his hair until he peacefully fell back asleep again. Which Anthony did, after murmuring, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ezra whispered.


End file.
